All That Jazz
by MorbidbyDefault
Summary: The year is 1927, and the city of London is bustling with booze, jazz, and scandal. One Molly Hooper has been caught up in it all. Will anyone be there to bail her out? Eventual Sherlolly. Based on Chicago: The Musical. Rated T for language, drug/sexual content.
1. Overture

Hey hey! I'm back! YAY! Anyway, I didn't get anything written in my time away. I was just too busy. Anyway, this is a new fic! So um...yea. This idea came to me while watching the movie version of Chicago! The Musical. I LOVE that show, and decided writing an AU Sherlolly fic about it would be an intriguing challenge. So, it's only LOOSELY based on the original, with a few minor adjustments here and there...and a new ending. Teehee. Because I can!

Right, um..oh yea. Legalities.

**I do not own any rights or copyrights to BBC Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, or Chicago. All things are owned by other, more brilliant people. :)**

Righto! Enjoy!

**All That Jazz**

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_Overture:_

_OoOo_

They lay in bed together, just coming down from their passionate bout in sheets. She sighed out happily as she reclined against his shoulder. A shoulder that, up until now, had always welcomed her. However, now it brushed her off, before he stood up and walked to the en suite bathroom that joined with her room.

"Jim? Is...is everything alright?" Molly asked with concern. His sudden aloof attitude was slightly unnerving as he turned his back to her in the loo. She stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the cool, night air of a bustling London. He re-entered the room, quickly putting his clothes back on and gathering up his suit jacket. Molly looked at him, confusion displayed on her features.

"Where are you going so soon?" She asked. Jim turned to her, his eyes rolling in the process.

"Come on, love. What did you really think would happen here? A few tumbles in the sheets together, and you think we'd become domestic? Hardly. You were just a distraction, and now you're getting in the way of my work." The lilt in his voice strung the harsh words together effortlessly, as he tossed his jacket over his shoulder, moving to the door. Molly gasped, trying to keep down the tears in her eyes. She moved to him, slapping his face hard with the palm of her hand.

"You complete and utter bastard!" She yelled. Something in his eyes switched. The playful coyness that had been there before was now replaced with a dark, maniacal glaze, and he turned to her quickly. In a swift move, she was being tossed over the bed, landing on the other side in a heap. The hardwood floor broke her fall, causing the room to echo with the small weight of her body. Jim scoffed with a light chuckle.

"You're such a little slip, you can't even stand up straight. I should kill you out of pity, but it wouldn't be much fun for me." He said in a calm voice. Molly looked over the side of the bed, fear in her eyes as he took a few steps toward her. Her hand unconsciously felt underneath the mattress, knowing what was there to be found. Jim stopped then, a cruel and sneering grin sweeping to light on his face.

"Nah. I think I'll just let you waste away from self loathing." He said quietly, before turning to leave. Molly's hand felt the cool metal grip, and quickly grabbed hold of it, swinging her arms in front of her. Gun pointed directly at head, she pulled back on the trigger, releasing her finger before pulling back a second time, followed by a third and final shot. Jim's body fell to the floor with a loud slump, the pool of blood already forming around him as he lay dead in the middle of her floor. Molly sucked in her scream of terror, quickly realizing what she had just done. The sound of sirens were already wailing through the night air, and Molly simply shuddered at the thought of what would happen to her.

OoOo

Detective Inspector Lestrade walked into the small flat, gazing over the corpse as they covered him up with a sheet. He turned to a very nervous and shocked Molly, who was shivering in the blanket that one of the other officers had given her. She looked up at him, and he sighed, before approaching her.

"Hello hello. Alright, little Missy. What sort of commotion did you get involved in here?" He asked, leaning over to meet her eye. Molly looked up with her teary eyes, and sniffled.

"He...he said he was going to kill me." She whispered with a wavering voice. Lestrade looked over at the body, watching as the attendants lifted it out of the room. He turned back to Molly, who was watching out of the corner of her eye.

"See, now I'd like to believe you, but that man was shot in the _back_ of the head. Hardly the angle to be coming to attack you. Why don't you tell me what really happened?" He asked, his voice spilling out with both sincerity and sarcasm. Molly's brow furrowed a bit, and her mouth fell into a dark frown.

"I'm telling you the truth. He tossed me across the room, and then said he should kill me. He went to leave, and then I thought I saw him coming back, so I defended myself. That's what really happened, detective." She said in a somber tone. Lestrade rolled his eyes a bit, before sighing and looking at her, disbelieving eyes almost glaring at hers.

"Miss Hooper, I would _love_ to believe you. Really, I would. However, you fail to understand that this was _James Moriarty_ you killed. Highly regarded professor and esteemed colleague to many people who knew him to be nothing but kind and caring. Now, you expect me to believe that that _same_ man threw you across the room and then threatened to kill you? Come on, up you get." Lestrade grabbed her by the arm, and slipped the silver pair of handcuffs over her wrists. Molly began to struggle against him, desperate to be heard.

"You don't understand, Inspector! He was using me! He's not who you all think he is! He was a despicable monster! Let me go!" She screamed, thrashing against him. Lestrade gripped her harder, forcing her outside.

"Yea, that sounds like a much more convincing story. Take her to Holloway." He said, rolling his eyes again. As they reached outside, camera bulbs flashed everywhere, the press already waiting like vultures circling over a dying thing. A bombardment of questions were shouted in their direction, as Lestrade pushed her into the back of a Black Maria. He turned to the press men, sighing.

"You can state it on record that this case should be over fairly quickly. The murder of an esteemed member of our society will no doubt bring a fast verdict. This is a hanging case, if I've ever seen one." He looked back over his shoulder, watching the police van peeling away from the growing mob. A frightened and tearful Molly gazed back at him, until he was too far away to see anymore. She sniffled and sat back, waiting to arrive at the gates of Holloway Prison.

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Aaaaand there's chapter one. :D I hope you like it. More to come soon. Leave me a review telling me what you think.


	2. When You're Good to Mama

Teehee, thanks for the reviews. I'm glad that you are liking it so far, and I hope you'll stick around throughout the whole story. It WILL be different than the original plot of _Chicago_, but there are still a lot of inspired parts of it. Right, down to business:

**I don't own Chicago or Sherlock. Moff/tiss, Sir ACD, Kander, Ebb, and Fosse are the owners/creators to give credit to, and I suggest you do, because they are quite brilliant writers of music, shows, and books. I LOVE YOU GUYS!**

**Right, now that that's done, I just move on. ;)**

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_When You're Good to Mama_

_OoOo_

They led Molly into a processing room, roughly uncuffing her from the shackles that bound her hands. She was then forced to strip bare and face a lined wall, obviously being photographed for public record. She was pushed up against the cold wall, and her arms spread out. Her brown hair was pinned up in rings on her head, and her light skin was exposed to the flash of the camera behind her.

After, she was handed a uniform to wear, and then a thick and scratchy blanket. The large guard walked her through another in the long line of doorways, and instructed her to sit. He shut the door behind her, the metal hinges creaking with a loud squeal. Molly took a seat next to a woman slightly older than her, who was picking at her nails.

"Have you ever had the delight of meeting Hudson before?" She asked Molly. Molly shook her head shyly, before looking at the other lady. Her blondish hair was swept back in a flipped up bun, a few pieces of fringe falling by her ears. She seemed fair enough, despite the tired bags that hung below her eyes.

"She's alright, as long as you don't treat her like she's your Mum." She said with a knowing smile.

"What's your name?" Molly asked quietly.

"Sarah. Sarah Sawyer. Not my first run in Holloway, probably won't be my last." She said with a wink. Molly smiled a bit in return, before she started with the loud creaking of the door again.

"On your feet!" The large man from before had shouted. The rest of the women around Molly stood up, and she followed suit. Soon, he moved aside to let in the supposed _Hudson_. Molly wasn't sure what to expect. She had thought that perhaps she would be a tall, brusque woman, who would instill fear into your very soul. Or perhaps, she would have been some terribly ugly brute, more masculine than feminine in appearance. None of these were the case, because Molly was soon staring at the supposedly infamous Mrs. Hudson. Small, frail, and simply sweet looking Mrs. Hudson. No wonder Sarah had given the advice she had. Molly had the insane urge to go and hug her. When the woman spoke, it only added to the illusion.

"Alright, my dears. We've got you all processed now, and we're ready to march you off to your cells. If you have any issues with the dwellings, or any favors you need..." She paused in her speech, and her weaving in and out of the benches full of women. She came to a stop in front of Sarah Sawyer, eying her with a quirked brow.

"...don't you ask me to help. I'm your Matron, not your housekeeper." Mrs. Hudson finished with a snap of her fingers, pointing for them to exit the room. Molly was the last in line, and was stopped at the doorway by Mrs. Hudson herself.

"You're Molly Hooper, aren't you?" She asked in the same, gentle voice from earlier. Molly nodded her head.

"Y...yes, Ma'am." She muttered. Mrs. Hudson's hand came to rest on her shoulder, before she turned them around and escorted Molly to her holding cell personally. As they walked, Molly took in the damp and dim surroundings. Metal was everywhere, and the musky smell of stale water clung to the pipes that seemed to wind throughout the prison like ivy.

"Right then, here we are dear. I realize of course this is very trying for you. I'm personally on your side of things, just between you and me. That Moriarty was nothing but a rat who got what he deserved. It'll be alright, love. Don't you worry your pretty little head." She said with a bright and motherly smile. She pulled open the door and motioned for Molly to walk through. With a loud clang, the door was shoved closed behind her, and Molly immediately shivered at the cool air that leaked and sifted around her. She turned around to see Mrs. Hudson turning to leave.

"Um...Mrs. Hudson?" Molly called out. The woman stopped in her tracks and turned around, a more somber and concerned look on her face.

"Yes, dear?"

"I...I was wondering if you maybe um...well...do you happen to have an extra blanket?" Molly fidgeted in her spot, nervously looking up at the matron. Mrs. Hudson chuckled a bit, before turning and walking away with a guard following close behind her.

"Not your housekeeper." Her voice echoed from down the corridor, leaving a freezing Molly to huddle further into the scratchy material of the blanket she did have. She curled into herself on the paper thin mattress, and quietly sobbed herself to sleep.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Well there ya go. Just a bit of an introduction to Mrs. Hudson. Lol. She'll show up more in the story later, but yea, she gets her own intro chapter because Mama Morton does in _Chicago_, so why shouldn't she in THIS story? Anyway, short chapter, will post again soon. I hope you like it so far, and I hope you will stick around for the rest of it. I'm so excited to finally be writing this story, as it's been on the backburners for like...3 months now. Lol. Hm, leave a review, if you would, please. I like hearing feedback! Thanks lovelies! See you next chapter!


	3. Cell Block Tango

Wow, I'm so glad people are enjoying this story! I know I really loved the idea of writing it, and now that I'm finally doing so, I'm glad it is being received well. Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting. :D It really does mean so much to me! Righto, now to the fun part...

**Disclaimers! I don't own anything. It's not mine, it's never been mine, it will always be someone else's. But I AM borrowing it to make my own story...which IS mine...so..yea...whatever that means.**

Enjoy!

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_Cell Block Tango_

_OoOo_

Over the course of the week, Molly had slowly come to terms with her new environment. She had become used to the cold air that danced on her skin at night. She was used to the daily routines, including the laundry, the sub-par meals, and the terrible stench of cigarettes. She had even started talking to some of the other women, hearing the stories that put them where they now were. The first woman she met had been entirely by accident. She was off to the side of the cafeteria, seemingly in her own thoughts. Molly walked around, looking for a seat, when she bumped into her. The blond woman turned quickly, her dangerous green eyes widening as she looked Molly over.

"Oi! You may want to watch where you're going there, yea?" She said with a daring tone. Molly gasped a bit, before she began fussing over the other woman.

"Oh...I..I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..." The woman burst into laughter, before she placed a kind hand on Molly's shoulder.

"It's alright. I'm only messin' with you. Name's Mary. Mary Morstan. The supposed 'loon' of Holloway. Who are you?" She asked, motioning for Molly to sit beside her. She did, smiling a bit at Mary.

"I'm Molly. Hooper." She said quietly. Mary's eyes widened and she leaned forward across the small table.

"_You're_ Molly Hooper? My goodness, they said the girl that killed Moriarty was small, but...you're practically a rail!" She looked her over, an astonished gaze on her face. Molly chuckled a bit, before shrugging her shoulders. They sat in silence for a moment, before Molly finally got up the courage to speak.

"So, Mary...what are you in here for?" She asked, her head tilting slightly to the side as she did so. Mary chuckled a bit darkly, before shaking her head.

"Well, same reason as you, except they think I'm probably a bit crazier." Mary laughed again, before settling back in her chair and sighing.

"I used to go out with this doctor. Former military officer, and you know, men in uniform are quite the rage." She said with a wink. Molly giggled, before slowly leaning over to listen to her story. Mary continued on, almost looking nostalgic.

"Well, he got out on account of getting shot. Shoulder wound, but he walked with a cane, not sure what that was about. It never affected him any other time, let me tell you. Anyway, for some bizarre reason, the man decided to grow a moustache. Now, I'm all for well kept facial hair, which his was. But the boy looked ridiculous with it. So I said to him, 'John, love. You've got to shave that thing off. It's just not working for me. You ever been with someone like that? They just have one or two things about them that drive you absolutely mad?" Mary asked, to which Molly nodded her head a bit. The blond sighed, before speaking again.

"Well let me tell you, that moustache split Johnny and I like the Red Sea. I didn't put out, and he didn't get any, until he shaved it off. Well, if he would have shaved it off. One night, I come home from work, and I decide that maybe I'll give him a little lovin', since it had been awhile. I walk into the bedroom, and there he is, looking in the mirror, combing the damn thing out. I'd had it! So, I went and got my daddy's revolver from the other room. I came back, and blew that stupid moustache right off his face!" Mary shouted, smacking her hand on the edge of the table, before bursting into a fit of giggles. Molly jumped with fright, before looking wide eyed at Mary.

"Oh my. Did he...did you..."

"Did I kill him? Well of course, sweet pea. I'm a terrible shot! Missed half the moustache and hit him between the eyes instead." Mary finished with a shrug, before she sighed once more, and gathered her tray up. Lunch was over, and Molly quietly veered herself to a different line, not entirely sure she wanted to spend the rest of her afternoon with Miss Mary Morstan.

OoOo

The next person she had the 'pleasure' of meeting, was a young woman of color. She was rude, fairly quick with a sardonic retort, and fairly short tempered. However, her reasons for being in Holloway weren't as far fetched as Mary's.

"He said he was going to leave his wife. Little weasel. We'd been together for over a year, while he was married. I slept in their bed! And then he tells me that they're going to 'give it another shot'. Well, I gave him another shot, a shot of absinthe in his morning tea. He had too weak of a stomach to hold his liquor. Too weak to stomach it, so I got caught, unfortunately." Sally had said, flicking a fresh towel out of the large basin of steaming water.

Molly thought that perhaps Sally Donovan _was_ a bit crazier than Mary Morstan, after all.

OoOo

She had met several women, some of whom were there for murder, some of whom were there for prostitution, and some, surprisingly enough, were there for peddling liquor and drugs on the streets illegally. This was the case for one sweet young woman, whom didn't seem the criminal type at all.

"So, Soo Lin, you seem innocent enough, why would such a nice girl like you be in such a horrible place like Holloway?" Molly asked one day, as they played a game of cards. The quiet girl sighed, and immediately brushed away a tear that threatened to break from her eyes.

"I came here when I was fifteen. My brother and I were forced to carry drugs in and out of the country, selling them all over England. He...he tried to get me away from it all. Tried to protect me. They killed him, and then framed me for his murder. Because I do not have the proper papers to be here, they say I will either be sent back to China and tried there, or sentenced here, if China allows it. But I'm not guilty of killing my brother. I'm not guilty."

Molly's heart instantly broke for Soo Lin, and that night she had said a small prayer for the fair Asian girl.

OoOo

She hadn't actually learned this woman's real name at all. For some reason, there had been no official record of her, and she only answered to the name of 'Anthea'. However, Molly was almost more intrigued by her mystery than anyone else. She quietly approached the brunette lady one day in the washroom.

"Why hello there. You're Molly Hooper." Anthea said as she looked over the small woman in the mirror. Molly nodded, not entirely sure how she knew that. Anthea stood to her full height, and turned to look over Molly. She then turned and left the room, simply beckoning her to follow with a curl of her finger. As they walked around the grounds, Molly listened intently to the secrets of the country from this supposed assistant.

"How do you know all of these things? If I may ask." Molly questioned carefully, not wanting to get herself into even more hot water. Anthea smiled at her, and nodded her head graciously.

"You may ask. I used to assist one of the most important men in the British government. He liked to pretend he only held a minor position, but I knew the truth. Such a stoic, cold person. They used to call him the Ice Man. He was going to give me the sack, and I overreacted a bit." She said with a small blush. Molly tilted her head, curious as to what 'a bit' meant.

"What did you do?"

"I stabbed him. I stabbed him with his prized umbrella. I think they said the final count was ten times, but I'm not entirely sure if that's fact or just rumor." Anthea shrugged off the matter, before continuing to walk around the gravel path. Molly's eyes widened significantly, and she hastily retreated to the safer confines of her cell.

Anthea was _definitely_ crazier than Sally Donovan or Mary Morstan.

OoOo

They had all seemed so kind, and were pushed to do something unthinkable. Men who had taken them for granted, used them one too many times, or had just pushed the wrong button. They weren't really that different from her, when stripped of the insane stories and personalities far bolder than her own. However, none of them had seemed so exotically conniving. They were desperate women, driven into the position and act that had now landed them into prison. None of them had seemed clever enough to plot out something in advance.

None of them, save for one woman. _The_ Woman.

OoOo

Molly had heard her name throughout the past few weeks, both from reading the papers and from the hushed murmurs of the other women in Holloway prison. Irene had killed not one, but two people. This woman was a truly remarkable scandal, having lovers instead of spouses, both male and female. She was both alabaster and pitch black, creating an alluring trance to everyone around her. When Molly had finally had her first run in with Irene Adler, she had to secretly pinch herself to make sure she hadn't had some twisted dream.

"Well, aren't you just the picture of goodness, love?" A creamy voice called behind her in the showers one day. Molly gasped, before whipping around to come face to face with the black haired, fair skinned woman. They were both bare, apart from Molly's desperate attempt to cover herself up with a towel. Irene had tutted a bit, before she strolled closer, confidence oozing from her every exposed pore.

"Thank you, Miss Adler." Molly replied quietly, looking away out of embarrassment. Irene was suddenly in front of her, her hand cupping Molly's cheek and bringing her back round to meet her gaze.

"Now now, there's no need to be shy. It's just us girls here. Besides, I've been just _dying_ to finally meet you." Irene's voice dripped like thick, warm honey, and Molly looked up to finally meet her eye.

"You...you have?" She asked in a small voice.

"Well, of course I have. Word travels fast in these echoing walls, love, and I've heard that you've been going around and getting to know everyone. Pity you stayed away so long, I've been absolutely bored just waiting to talk to you." She said, before turning around and leaving the shower stall.

"I suspect you'll want to be decent and clean. Come find me when you're done. We'll have a proper chat." Her voice called out as she walked out of the shower room. Molly was left in complete shock, unsure of what had just happened.

OoOo

When she finally found Irene, the woman was lounging in her own cell, a silk dressing gown hanging loosely around her form. Molly eyed the material carefully, wondering how this woman managed to get so lucky.

"Mrs. Hudson. If you slip her a few pounds, she can get you almost anything you like. Do you want to feel it?" Irene asked, sitting up a bit, and patting the mattress of her bed for Molly to sit beside her. The small woman moved shyly closer, before sitting down next to Irene. She gave her a weak smile, before sighing and biting her lip.

"Oh, I'll just tell you. Save you the trouble from plucking up the courage to ask. What am I in for? I killed my lovers. Yes, two of them. Yes, one was a woman. Kate. Pretty thing, really. She was a bit of a hussy though, and decided that fooling around with my dear Sebastian sounded far too appealing to resist. Sebby had always been faithful to me, or so I thought. I knew about them sneaking around behind my back for months, and when I finally felt they had had enough fun, I brought it to a stop." Irene spoke so casually of her life, leaving Molly blushing and bewildered.

_Two lovers. An affair behind her back. She knew about it. Knew she was going to kill them, too._

Molly stuttered and stumbled over what to say in response, but Irene just chuckled.

"It's alright, Molly. I'm more than comfortable with sharing about my life with people. There's nothing to be ashamed of, really. Everyone has a need. I just...know how to provide for those needs better than some." She said finally, after pausing to think of how to phrase her words. She was about to speak again, when Mrs. Hudson peeked her head in.

"Oh, hello Molly, dear. Miss Adler, he's just phoned over, says he'll be here in five minutes. He said he doesn't want to waste any time today, so you'd better be prompt." The older woman said with a mockingly serious tone. A bright smile crossed onto Irene's face, and she stood up.

"Thank you, Mrs. H. I'll be right down. Just gotta doll myself up a bit." She said with a wink. Molly stood too, and was soon being led away from Irene's cell by Mrs. Hudson, who had looped her arm through Molly's.

"Who is visiting her? One of her lovers?" Molly asked curiously. Mrs. Hudson laughed, before shaking her head.

"Oh no, dear. Definitely not. Sherlock Holmes is a lot of things, but I don't think I'd categorize him as 'lover' in any capacity. He's her attorney. Well, he's not _really_ an attorney, but he does take on people's cases for them. He's really very good. Never lost a case to date." She chatted happily, before breaking her arm away from Molly's. Molly found herself in her cell now, and was left to wonder more about this supposedly amazing man.

"Sherlock Holmes." She muttered to herself, biting her lip with a new found determination to save her skin.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

TA-DA! There's that chapter. I hope you liked reading it...because I had SO much fun writing it. _Cell Block Tango_ is my favorite number from _Chicago_, so I knew writing a Sherlock!verse version of it would be just as much fun. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it, and are looking forward to more! Leave me a review, k? BYE MY LOVES!


	4. All I Care About

Teehee, So, as for the reactions from last chapter...I DIDN'T KILL JOHN OR MYCROFT! MARY AND ANTHEA DID! ;) Anyway, thank you so much for your hilarious and supportive reviews! I am so glad you enjoyed that chapter! Right-o, methinks it's time for another disclaimer!

**I don't own Chicago, Sherlock, or any of the characters belonging to either production. Those are credited to other, more acclaimed and brilliant people!**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

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_All I Care About_

_OoOo_

The sound of finely polished shoes hitting the hollow metal steps of the prison echoed throughout the holding chambers. A few of the women looked up from their game of cards, and immediately swooned, turning to gossip with each other. He walked silently across the scaffolding, not really looking at any of them in particular. As he turned the corner to approach the last flight of stairs, he abruptly ran into a small force. He looked down, meeting the soft, owlish brown eyes of a young woman.

"Oh, I am so, so sorry. I wasn't paying..." Molly had started to apologize, when she looked up to see who she had bumped into. The rest of her sentence fell to the floor silently as she stared into the most stunning set of blue eyes she'd ever seen.

"No matter. The fault was entirely mine." He said with a low and graveled tone. Molly felt her entire body begin to burn with an onset blush. 'Dashing', Mrs. Hudson had said. She'd been right, he was quite dashing, but Molly felt it was the largest understatement of just how stunning of a being this man was. His tall stature towered over her petite figure, and she was tempted to reach out and touch the chiseled cheeks that she was sure were carved from pure marble. His hair was almost entirely black, though she could tell a slight reddish hue beneath the slicked back curls. But those eyes, Molly knew she would dream of those eyes for years. Blue, though, not any shade she'd ever seen before. The blue had decided to mingle with the likes of sea green, and had even invited a slight bit of hazel to join in the swirling dance of his irises. It was when he cleared his throat that Molly was ripped from her staring, and she blushed even brighter.

"I said I wonder if you could tell me if Miss Adler was informed of my arrival?" His dark voice spoke again, and Molly withheld the shudder that it sent down her spine.

"Um...yes. She said she was just getting 'dolled up'. Sh-she should be down soon. You're Sherlock Holmes, right?" She heard herself asking with a soft voice. The man in question had been rolling his eyes at her first statement, apparently loathing a dolled up Irene Adler. He then stood back a bit, evaluating her. Soon, he nodded.

"Yes, and who might you be?"

"I'm Molly. Molly Hooper." She smiled at him, shy and sweet by default. His eyes seemed to take on a new electric glow, and he was suddenly engaged in their conversation.

"You're Molly Hooper? Oh, this is brilliant! This is a wonderful twist. People who say there's no such thing as coincidences, what dull lives they must lead. You, Miss Hooper, are the most intriguing woman in all of London to me at the moment. Tell me, are you being represented already?" Sherlock's face had twisted from its imperial stare to one of a child at Christmas. He grinned from ear to ear, and lowered himself to meet her gaze more thoroughly.

"N...no?"

"Oh, good! You are now. I will take you on as my client, and ensure that you do not meet an untimely demise. Now, I have a prior...engagement...to attend to, but rest assured, Molly Hooper, you are at the top of my list." He smiled at her, those brilliant eyes cutting her to the quick. The small woman smiled as best as she could, and watched with a stunned expression as he made his way downstairs to Miss Adler, posed and waiting for him. She was just about to call out and ask him why he was suddenly so interested in her, when Mrs. Hudson shouted from the end of the hall.

"Miss Hooper!" Molly jumped, and quickly turned around to walk toward her.

"Y...yes, ma'am?"

"You've got kitchen duties today, and lunch starts in two hours. Better get a move on." She said with a grin. Molly nodded her head and started to walk past the matron, when she stopped. Mrs. Hudson looked at her curiously.

"That Sherlock Holmes...he said he'd take me on as a client. Why would he do that? He doesn't even know me. Does he...I wonder if he..." She had started to drift off to her own thoughts by the end of telling Mrs. Hudson her news. An amused chuckle brought her round, however, and she looked up at the older woman.

"Oh dear me, love. Let me spare you a broken heart. The only thing that man cares about is the work. Says everything else is transport. You'd be making a fool of yourself if you thought otherwise. Alright?" She spoke tenderly to the young lady, whose face turned downcast a bit, partially from embarrassment, and partially from disappointment. Molly nodded her head sullenly, before turning around and walking off again.

"I'll just go...start lunch preparations." She muttered sadly. Mrs. Hudson sighed, before turning and looking down at the tall man speaking with Irene.

OoOo

By the time he reached Irene, Sherlock's mind was already far from his client at hand. In fact, his thoughts had drifted far away, to a different time and place. He had encountered Professor James Moriarty before, and knew what the man was like, much in the same regards that Molly Hooper knew him to be like. The vile, twisted man that hid so gracefully behind his blossomed career and well established reputation.

Molly Hooper. Now _there_ was an interesting case. She was one of the smallest women he had ever laid eyes on. Petite, and entirely too innocent looking to be caught up in Holloway Prison. Yet, she was there. She had taken out one of Sherlock's biggest challenges as a self-made man, and had defeated him with nothing more than a very bad aim and a lucky shot. He was both impressed with her and slightly jealous that she was the one who had ended such a criminal mastermind.

"Mr. Holmes? Did you hear me? I was wanting to know if that's a good plan or not?" Irene's silky voice cut through his thoughts, and Sherlock glanced up at her.

"Hm? Oh, yes yes. That's perfectly fine. Wonderful strategy and all that." He said, dismissively waving his hand at her. She huffed out a bit in frustration, knowing that he wasn't paying her attention at all. She sat closer to him on the edge of the table, leaning down over him. Her sly smile was in place when he looked up, and she made no attempt to cover the bit of cleavage that had exposed itself to his viewing. Sherlock rolled his eyes, before standing up and flinging his coat over his shoulders.

"Wha...where are you going? Don't we have other things to discuss about the trial?" Irene called after him as he walked away.

"Another time, Miss Adler. You're at the top of my list. I'll be around soon enough. Afternoon." Sherlock called behind him, his tone sounding distracted as he walked up the metal stairs once more. Irene scowled, watching as Sherlock turned down one corridor, not to leave, but to head to the long hall of cells that lined it.

OoOo

Molly had been pulling the apron over her head, readying herself for the kitchen, when there was a dull knock on the bars of her open cell. She turned quickly, to see the tall man standing in the doorway, eyes moving quickly over her surroundings, and finally settling on her.

"You're obviously wondering why I've taken you on as my client. You could say we have something of a mutual interest in your case. You, of course, would like to be believed that you were only doing what you did in self defense, which I will help you with, as I believe you. I do, however, also have the integral interest of exposing James Moriarty for the conniving spider that he was. I think, if we dig deep enough into your...intimate past with him, we will be able to do both." Sherlock finished with a small grin. Molly's eyes widened a bit, both in shock at the speed that he spoke, but also how accurate his words were. She only nodded her head, silently agreeing to give him whatever history and information he needed.

"I will be in touch shortly, and we can begin going over your story. The press, no doubt, will want to hear a formal statement, which we will give obligingly. I need you to be solid in your story though, so not a word to anyone until I say so. Is that understood?" He asked as he walked closer to her. Molly gulped down her quickened breaths, before squeaking out a small 'M hm'. Sherlock gave her a curt nod, before he turned around and exited her cell.

"Right, better get a move on, Miss Hooper. Don't want the women to rip you apart for being late with their lunch, now do we?" He called out with a smirk. Molly snapped out of her internal hyperventilation, and quickly ran to the kitchen. She tried to ignore the quick beating of her heart, the upturn of small hairs on her neck, the goose bumps that had risen on her skin. She tried, and failed miserably. None of these things were caused from her rushing to her duties, of course. Molly went throughout her day trying, and failing yet again, to not think about the sharp angles of his cheekbones, his dark curls, and those sharp, terribly clever eyes that read her like an open book.

_'As long as he helps me, I'm going to be alright.'_ Molly told herself, placing her faith in him entirely.

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Yay! Finally got another chapter done. I hope you all enjoy it, and are going to come back for more! Woo-hoo! Right, leave me a review and let me know what you thought of it! :D Thanks, my dears, see you next time!


	5. Press Conference Rag

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**K, I don't own any of the original characters/plots/settings/yada yada...etc. **

**Enjoy this next chapter!**

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_Press Conference Rag_

_OoOo_

Sherlock had been true to his word, and returned soon after their first encounter. Even though she didn't say it out loud, Molly was more than excited at the opportunity to interact with him so closely. She felt safe with him, even if just from a legal standing. He was ruthless, cruel even, in his treatment to her, but it didn't matter to her, as long as he believed that he could secure her freedom.

"Right, again. From the top." His deep voice cut through her thoughts for the fifth time that afternoon, causing Molly to jump.

"R...right. Sorry, Mr. Holmes." she replied with a small voice. Sherlock rolled his eyes, before looking at her pointedly.

"Please, call me Sherlock. Mr. Holmes is the name my deceased and pompous older brother went by. I hardly find it fitting on a personal level. If it helps, I will simply call you 'Molly'." he said indignantly, before offering her a small grin. Molly nodded her head, before taking in a deep breath.

"I first met Jim at a club. I'd been..."

"No." Sherlock cut her off. Molly looked up at him in confusion.

"No? What do you mean?" She asked. He sighed, rolling his eyes, before standing in front of her.

"Do not start off by saying you met him at a club. This is still a taboo subject for most of the people of the court. Saying that you met at a club counteracts any credibility you may have built up with people. Now, start again. This time, start with your own story. Where are you from? Why did you move to London? What was it like to live in the city on your own? And then, you may go into how you met Moriarty. From the top!" Sherlock's words sped from him as he rattled off the 'proper' way to handle her story. Molly tried to mentally take notes from him, and found that she was doing fairly well. She sighed, before thinking to herself a bit. Sherlock tapped on the table's surface impatiently, and Molly opened her mouth to speak.

OoOo

"Molly, I need you to pay very close attention, as I only have time to say this to you once." Sherlock said quietly, pulling her into a small nook in the wall. She looked up at him with concern, and nodded her head.

"The media is a sick and cleverly vicious group of people. They twist your words to make you into either a monster or a martyr. We are hoping for the latter, but you _need_ to say everything I have told you to say, _exactly_ as I said it. If not, they will not hesitate to feed off your mistakes and spin your words out of control. That's what they do. They sell a big lie, and wrap it up in a truth to make it more palatable. Now, are you ready?" He stood to full height again, tugging down on his suit jacket to even out the creases. Molly sucked in a breath, her eyes having grown wide during his 'encouraging' talk. Nevertheless, she nodded slightly, and let out the breath slowly, shaky in her resolve. He led her by the hand to the doors, before pushing them forcefully, and meeting an instant sea of people and flashing bulbs.

"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes!" The several members of the press shouted their way as they exited the large building. A microphone stood in the middle of the grand entrance, squared between the large marble columns that held up the roof. Sherlock stood up to it first, and turned to speak to one of the men.

"Yes, I've just accompanied Miss Hooper to go before the court. She is pleading guilty, by way of self defense. If you have any questions for her at this time, she would be most pleased to provide you with any details." He said with a smile, before stepping back, nodding for Molly to take his place.

She walked until she stood in front of the microphone stand, one which held the single, daunting device. Sherlock nudged her up to the front, and she could feel him pressing a hand into her back, assuring her he was right behind her. He pointed to the first member of the crowd. A young woman, strawberry blond hair, pulled back into a bun.

"Yes, Miss Riley will have the first question." Sherlock nodded to her, attempting to hide his look of disgust. The lady gave a condescending smile in return, before scratching down in her notebook, and raising her head to look at Molly.

"Miss Hooper, I'm Kitty Riley. I want this article to be not only helpful to your defense, but also beneficial to the young women of London. Do you have any words to say that would steer them away from such potential scandal as you've been caught up in?" She said with a posh tone ringing through her nasal voice. Molly had to bite back a cringe that crept to her face at the harsh sound, before she focused herself on what Sherlock had instructed her to say.

"Y...yes. I want to warn young women in this city to not be drawn in b...by men who seem to be wh-what they are not. Professor Moriarty was this type of man, and I wish I had known that before." She managed to make the statement with very few pauses, only occasionally stumbling over her words. A few mutterings could be heard throughout the crowd, and she remembered what Sherlock had said about being the monster or the martyr. She decided to speak again, this time, from her own heart.

"I also wanted to say that, if I had the power, I would go back and undo what I've done. Despite the man he may have been, it was never my intent to end his life." Molly heard a slight, sharp breath behind her, and tried her best not to turn and see the purely shocked look that Sherlock was trying to harbor. He cleared his throat, before pointing to another member of the group.

"Where are you from, originally?" He asked. Molly had no problems telling the truth to questions like this, considering Sherlock had allowed most of her story to remain the truth.

"I'm from Southampton. But I've lived here for five or so years." She answered with a small grin. Sherlock pointed again, and soon another question rang out.

"What about your parents?" The man asked. Molly bit down the tears that had already started to form at the tender subject.

"Well...my mum has moved to Scotland. My dad...passed away when I was younger." Molly responded, her voice a bit quieter than her answers before. The questions began spilling out after that, and she did her best to answer them accordingly. It seemed Sherlock was right, yet again. The press were a flock of vultures, each trying to pick a little bit off of her withering resolve.

"_How did you meet James Moriarty?"_

"I had gone to a small party with a couple who lived in the same building as I did. We went to a club. I met him by accident. He had bumped into me and spilled his drink on my dress." She said, remembering to seem 'fond' of the memory, as Sherlock had put it. She looked out of the corner of her eye at him, and he simply stood back, watching her.

"_How long were you seeing the professor?"_

"He had asked me on an official evening out about a week later. He seemed charming and kind at first. He took me to the finest restaurants in the city, and was always so insistent upon catering to me. Things were fine for about the first month or so." She answered truthfully.

"_Well, what happened to change your mind?" _

Molly stopped a bit, she looked behind her to her 'counsel', and he simply nodded his head at her, earnest in his eyes.

"W...well, he'd started t-to skip out on dates. First one, then a few times a week, and then, then it was almost every time. H-he'd be short with me, both when he talked and when we...when we were...together." She tried to say what had happened without actually saying the words. This may have been London, but it was still considered a terrible scandal for a woman of her age to be intimate before her marriage. She heard a few more mumbles throughout the people, and she sighed a bit.

"_Is that why you shot him?" _This time, the voice was not that of a reporter, but that of a silver-haired Detective Inspector. Molly's eyes widened as she met his gaze, and she gulped nervously. Lestrade waltzed to the podium, making his way over to her. She looked away a bit, trying to contain her nerves.

"Hello, hello. Lovely day for a show, isn't it, Sherlock?" He said, turning his head to look at the tall man. Molly stole a glance as well, and noticed the pure darkness that had settled into his gaze at Lestrade.

"Detective Inspector."

"You know, Sherlock, we could really use someone like you at Scotland Yard. If you'd only stop being such a bloody, insufferable, know-it-all, we'd make a great team. Instead, you're out here, playing 'consulting detective' with every doll naïve enough to believe you actually know what you're doing." Lestrade sneered, a false smile still in place on his face as he looked back to Molly at the end of his statement. Without another word, the inspector walked past them, and into the building. Sherlock huffed out a steady breath, before he pulled Molly close to his side.

"No further questions today, folks." He said into the lone microphone. The media crews grew loud and mob-like, shouting out for more of a story.

"_Is that why you killed him? Why did you kill him? What did he do to deserve that? Are you even a bit sorry? Is it true that he was leaving you? How can you say it was self defense?" _The questions poured out rapidly, growing into a tidal wave that bombarded her. When a single voice rang out from the others, that shrill, toe-curling lilt, Molly pulled away from Sherlock, and approached the stand again.

"How does it feel to have an innocent man's blood on your hands, Miss Hooper?" She turned, facing the front, and glaring down at Miss Kitty Riley, who's brow was lifted inquisitively.

"Miss Riley, I realize that this man was in high standing with several people of society and reputation. However, I really must state for the record that Professor James Moriarty was _not_ the charming, kindhearted man that he led so many to believe. There was another side to him, and _that_ is the side that I dealt with on that night. He was not innocent as you would believe. What I did was in defense of my own life. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have to return to Holloway. It's my day to cook dinner. Thank you all for coming to speak to me." Molly stood a bit taller as she spoke down to the reporter. Finally, she brought a sweet smile to her face, and gave a small wave to the others in the group. The camera bulb flashes resumed as she turned and walked beside Sherlock, who escorted her to the car. She was too busy trying to regain her composure to notice the man staring at her, entirely too impressed with her performance to think of anything else.

OoOo

The ride back to Holloway Prison was silent, on both party's accounts. Molly was thinking over her story, trying to remember the crucial fact that she had shot him out of self defense. Sherlock's words came to her mind again.

_They sell a big lie, and wrap it up in a truth to make it more palatable._

She understood now what he meant. Because the rest of her story was true, the press, the people, _the jury_ would believe that last little bit. Molly sighed out a long breath, looking out the window.

"You were amazing today." She started, whipping her gaze around to look at him with doe-like eyes. Sherlock was staring directly at her, a look of pride swept over his face in a subtle tone. Molly gave a shy grin, before shrugging her shoulders.

"I was just saying what you told me to say. It wasn't me, it was all you." She offered up the silent praise to his brilliant mind, biting her lip a bit. Sherlock watched her, carefully regarding her. A slight feeling of warmth spread throughout his chest, and he suddenly felt as though the car was closing in around them.

"Molly..."

The car stopped, and the door was immediately pulled open by the awaiting guard. Molly stepped out of the car, before she turned around to say goodbye to him.

"Thank you, Sherlock. I... just so you know, I think you know what you're doing, and I don't consider myself to be naïve." Molly said with a shrug of her shoulders, that sweet, gentle smile lighting up her face. She gave him a final wave, before turning around and being led back into the confines of the prison gates. The car drove away, pulling Sherlock away from his client, and into his mind palace. He needed to think.

_Think about the work. _

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Ta-da! Another chapter down! So, this chapter is a the turning point, where it's not as much based on _Chicago_, and has more twists in it that are my own ideas. Of course there will still be a lot of similar plot points, but just as a forewarning, do not base your predictions solely on the movie/show. Because I'm slightly twisted, and so this story is too. Mwahahahahaha! Alrighty, anyway, tell me what you thought of this chapter, and I hope you all come back for more! Thank you, my lovelies!


	6. Molly

YAY! I'm so glad people are liking this story! Thank you so much for those of you who are reading and reviewing! That makes me feel special. :D I won't waste any more of your time, let's just do this!

**I don't own ****_Chicago _****or BBC Sherlock. All characters and matching plot points are the creative property of other, better people. **

**Enjoy!**

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_Molly_

_OoOo_

The newspaper was delivered to her a few days later, and Molly was slightly astonished to see her face on the front page.

_**'Self-Defending Hooper gives Hope to Women of London'**_

The headline told her lie well, complete with the otherwise truthful article about her story involving James. Molly read it over, secretly breathing out a sigh of relief as the article concluded with the desired words.

_'Miss Hooper has claimed the act was in self defense against a darker side to a formerly well thought-of man. This has caused women all over London to gain some inner courage, leaving men that were otherwise cruel to them. Perhaps there is something more to this humble woman's tale. A trial date has yet to be set for Hooper, but it is sure that the truth will be revealed there, and here as well. - Miss Kitty Riley - '_

Molly had read the article nearly three times when Mrs. Hudson had come calling. She looked up at the older matron, smiling a bit.

"You've got another bouquet of support flowers, dear. There's another box of chocolates as well, and a few more letters. Oh, and _he's_ called for you, says he'll be by within the next two days to go over your story with you." Mrs. Hudson rattled off the list of gifts that Molly had received from the public over the past two days. When she listed off the last item, however, Molly's heart seemed to swell a bit with excitement. She'd tried keeping herself in line, keeping herself in check. After all, Sherlock Holmes only cared about the work.

Or did he?

Molly knew that she hadn't mistaken his softened gaze at her in the cab the day of her press conference. And the way he had said her name. She was done for, and she knew it.

"Alright. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." She said with a smile. Mrs. Hudson nodded her head, before she sat down in the chair within Molly's cell. She hadn't noticed, however, having already gone back to her thoughts of Sherlock. Those wonderfully striking eyes, that low voice. She was _definitely _done for, even if this did pan out in her favor, she'd never get over him or his brilliance.

"So, dearie, have you given any thought to what you're going to do once Sherlock gets you off?" She asked. Molly's eyes widened immediately, before realizing Mrs. Hudson's meaning. The woman recognized the signs in the flush of Molly's cheeks, and grinned in a cat-like way.

"Oh my, he's gotten to you already. I can tell. Well, no matter, when he _does_ get you free, you can go out there and find another man, one who's actually good for you." She said with a smile, before standing up and leaving Molly to blush alone.

Mrs. Hudson was right. Molly knew this. This was London, a city of several different cultures and types of men, all of whom would most likely be better suited for her than James Moriarty had been or Sherlock Holmes would be. There was just one problem: Molly didn't _want_ any of those men.

She wanted Sherlock. Very much. Which, of course, made their meetings rather difficult for her to endure.

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K, I know this is a short chapter, but it's packed with a bit of foreshadowing, if you catch it. :) K, stay tuned for more! YAY! Also, leave me a review and tell me what you think. Thank you, my dears!


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